The Proposition

Short Story for the Write It! Monthly Challenge. Placed Second.

Three Prompts:Short Story
Arrogant
Another misty morning
Drama

The Proposition

Georgiana awoke suddenly, hot with perspiration. She could feel her heart racing, and breathed deeply to try to settle down the panic that was inside her. She felt like she was being restricted, but quickly realised that it was only her night dress, which had tangled.

She fumbled around looking for some matches, which she found after some frustration and lit the candles next to her bed. The room took on an orange glow, and she instantly felt comforted by its small amount of warmth.

She swung her legs out of her bed, and pulled her slippers on before her feet hit the cold hard wood floor. She pulled on her dressing gown, and crossed the large room to the fireplace. Some of the embers were still glowing from the night before. It was still dark outside, so she guessed that it was very early morning.

She put some more wood on the fire, and shoveled some coal on – hoping that it would re-light. She lit more candles on the mantle piece, sat in a rocking chair next to the fire, and prayed that she did not wake anyone else in the house.

This was the forth night in a row that she had woken in the early hours of the morning, unable to sleep. It had been four days since her 18th birthday and Débutante ball. She had been presented to society late, in comparison to most standards – but everybody had been there, all looking at her in admiration. She had actually felt that the men had looked at her as a wealthy new business venture, and many had begun negotiations with her father for her hand in marriage. She knew that it wasn’t her that they wanted, but her very large dowry.

Her father had indicated he wanted her to marry his friend - a Lord, who was twenty years her senior, which she found utterly repulsive. She had spent her entire life learning to become truly accomplished in the arts of music, language, poetry, literature, painting, singing, and embroidery. All for which she had learned for her future love.
Now, she felt that her accomplishments would be wasted on an old man, who would not care for her with his love, and nor would she want it.

She wanted to give her love to someone who would gratefully receive it with honour.

She longed to give it to the Marquess of Winchester’s eldest son. Andrew Paulet, who would soon be the 13th Marquess of Winchester.

He had recently arrived back to the Peak district from Eton College, and had walked back into her life. He had changed so much. She had not seen him in five years, not since he was the boy who she would secretly play in the garden with, and she was the girl who he would gallop across the estates with.
He had grown from the comical boy who had been her best friend, into the arrogant, proud young man, who had stood and bowed before her at her ball. When she had looked into his intense blue eyes, she could see his childhood laughter residing deep within them – but she could see that over the years they had become serious.

She poked the fire with an iron poker. The coals in the fire were now glowing a deep red as they heated. She smiled to herself as the wood lit from the coals. That was how he made her feel. Like a fire had been lit within her heart. Warm and alive. Her father did not know of her affections for Andrew Paulet, and had he known, she was sure that he would have dismissed the idea of the marriage. After all – Andrew was far above her with rank, he was to be a Marquess.

She did not want to marry an old man. Her father had stated that he wished her to become engaged before the end of the season, and to her apprehension - that was drawing nearer each day.

She stood, and walked over to the floor to ceiling french doors, and drew the curtains back. She could see that morning would soon arrive, and as the light grew, she saw that it was another misty morning, but that would soon disappear as the sun hit the ground.

Andrew had visited them yesterday, during which Georgiana had prayed that he would speak to her father. When she had later questioned him about his motives when they were alone, he had replied that he could make no promises to anyone, as his father had already promised him to another Lords daughter, Lady Emma Winters, who he had not met yet.

When she returned home, she had broken down with grief in the privacy of the stables. She could not believe that she had fallen for a promised man. The same man, who foolishly promised himself to her when he was twelve years old. The same man who she had foolishly hoped would keep that childish promise. She had felt hurt, disappointed, and jealous about his betrothal – even though she had known as she got older that the chances of them ever marrying was a dream that she would be lucky to have.

A while later she heard the maid walk into the room behind her.

“Ma’am, your father has requested that you have breakfast with him and your mother.”

“Thank you. I will meet with them when I am dressed.” She smiled as she watched the maid busy herself with getting her clothes ready for the day. She went back to gazing out the window, and heard the maid leave quietly a few moments later.

* * *

“Georgiana,” he addressed her. “I have chosen a match for you.”

Georgiana sat silently at the dining table across from her mother who was sitting quietly watching her. Georgiana had been staring at her clasped hands, which were in her lap, resting against the pale silk dress that she wore. She looked up at her father in anticipation.

“You will be promised to Lord Fendalton, an honorable man, who is a lawyer with King George’s court.”

Georgiana feebly nodded in agreement, feeling as though her world was tilting. She could hear her mother saying that she knew that their daughter would be pleased with the match. She felt like crying, but knew that it would not be appropriate at the breakfast table. How could a lawyer be honorable?

She excused herself from the table, unable to eat anything further due to the huge amount of anxiety, which had welled inside her stomach.

She walked to the stables, and ordered one of the stable hands to prepare her horse. He then assisted her onto her horse, and she took off at a canter across the estate. She could not think while being surrounded by the walls of her father.

She reached the highest hill on their estate, and stopped to look at the breathtaking views of what would no longer be her home. Tears streamed down her face, and she choked back a sob. After a while, she wiped her face with the skirt of her dress, and as she looked back toward the house, she saw a rider, presumably Lord Fendalton, approaching the house, no doubt to discuss the arrangements.

She slowly rode back towards her home, as it looked as though rain was drawing near.

Her mother met her in the foyer when she walked in the house.

“Your father wishes to speak with you in his library.”

Georgiana nodded in obedience, and turned to walk towards the library, butterflies welling in her stomach. She was thinking that he probably wanted to speak to her about the wedding date and possible venues. She felt that since she was to marry Lord Fendalton, it was only appropriate that they were married on his estate, not her fathers.

She reached the library, and took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in,” he replied.

She opened the library doors, and felt her heart miss a beat. Standing at the window, was Andrew Paulet – not Lord Fendalton as she had originally thought.

She curtsied to him, and her father instructed her to sit down. She took a seat, not daring to look at Andrew, and waited for her father to speak.

“I have withdrawn my wishes that you marry Lord Fendalton.” His eyes flicked towards Andrew. “There has been a far more advantageous proposition made for your hand.”

Georgiana stared at her father in disbelief. “Who?” She asked.

Her father smiled at her. “Lord Andrew Paulet. His father has just released him from his engagement.”

She sucked in her breath in surprise. “Thank you Father.” she said tightly, as two tears trickled down her face. She looked to Andrew, who was smiling at her. “Thank you Andrew.” She saw the sun was shining through the window behind him. Andrew bowed to her.

“You may go now Georgiana.” Her father instructed.

She walked through the library doors, saw her mother waiting for her, smiling, and embraced her.

“I hope that you will be very happy Georgiana.” Her mother mumbled into her hair.
Georgiana sniffed as more tears sprung from her eyes. “More than you can ever imagine Mother; I have longed for him since we were children.”

“I know. Now – you need to stop crying – even if it is because you are happy.” She pulled away from her. “You can’t let him see you like this – or he may not marry you!”

Georgiana and her mother started laughing, and her mother tucked her daughters arm through hers, and led her into the garden.

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